


A Boring Afternoon That Turned Out Not So Boring After All

by bananacosmicgirl



Category: NCIS
Genre: Innuendo, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananacosmicgirl/pseuds/bananacosmicgirl
Summary: Tony grins. “Methinks the Probemeister has a crush.”
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69





	A Boring Afternoon That Turned Out Not So Boring After All

**Author's Note:**

> Set in early season 6.

The first time Tim ever saw Tony was on a dock. Tim noticed him immediately – it was hard not to – although he was mostly trying very hard not to puke all over the crime scene. Tony took him away to sit down, chuckling at the newbie’s green face all the while – even so, being kind of nice. 

The idea that he’d be working with Tony, for Gibbs, would have been unfathomable for him back then. It still is some days – he’s not always sure that he fits in. He doesn’t have Gibbs’ gut feelings, nor Tony’s street smarts, nor Ziva’s assassin training. He’s a geek – the kid everyone picked on in school – and still, he sometimes worries that someone on the team will realize, and they’ll tell him it’s all been a big mistake. 

Of course, it wasn’t anyone on the team who stole the team from him – it was Vance, placing him on the geek squad in the basement. And now he’s back. They’re all back. 

A ball of paper hits his head. 

“Daydreaming, McGone?” 

Tony grins at him. 

“Working,” Tim replies, not entirely truthfully. 

He can’t even begin to describe his relief that they’re all back. A little worse for wear – Tony still looks like he could use some more sleep, because he doesn’t seem to have slept all that much on the ship, and Ziva—well, Tim gets the feeling that she doesn’t quite want to be there. He doesn’t know what it is, but something has changed over the nearly four months they’ve been apart. 

Gibbs walks into the bullpen, coffee glued to his hand. Coffee is Gibbs’ only constant companion, Tim thinks.

He lets his fingers fly over the keyboard, pretending to work. Well, he is working – he’s slowly building a database that will be able to cross reference the cold cases from previous years, although it’s far from done; it’s his project when they don’t have a case – like right now. 

This part of the process is near automated, and he can allow his thoughts to wander. 

They wander to Tony, as they so often do these days. 

They have become friends, of sorts. Against all odds, Tim thinks, because when he started out – squeaky new at the agent stuff – he mostly wanted to strangle Tony for being an immature ass. He remembers in vivid detail when he was out on the field, and believed he had found an extraterrestrial, when it was in fact Tony’s annoying idea of a joke. 

Of course, Tony’s jokes are a great deal of fun when he’s not the recipient. But Tim usually is, which is why it took him a while to warm up to Tony. Fingers glued to the keyboard are not funny. 

They’ve lived through hardships that have gotten them closer. They’ve lived through the Plague, Kate’s death, Gibbs being injured and resigning, all of them near death way too frequently, Tim shooting a cop, an undercover assignment from hell for Tony, and, most recently, the death of Jenny Shepard and the disbandment of their team. 

They’ve lived through more than most do in a lifetime. 

Ziva and Tony exchange bored looks. Although they’re both supposed to go over cold cases, Tim knows that they’re itching for a dead sailor to turn up. It is awful to be waiting for a murder to happen, to _want_ a murder to happen, so they can get the adrenaline flowing trying to solve it, catching the bad guys, but it’s their job and their passion. 

Hours pass – it’s nearing five – and nothing happens. Even Gibbs looks bored, which is a look not seen on him often, except in seminars. 

Tony can liven up even the most boring of seminars. Tim is certain Tony can liven up anything. 

Tony’s a big part of why Tim works for Gibbs at NCIS. Tony was the one who returned, when they had a case with a dead diver, and let him track a phone call. Back then, Tim still called Tony ‘sir’. He smiles at the memory, and thinks that Tony probably liked that, too. 

“Something funny?” asks Tony. 

“You’re watching me?” 

“I’m _bored_. And you’re smiling. Now spill your little nerdylicious secrets to me.” 

Tim shakes his head. “None of your business.” 

Tony leans back in his chair. He seems pleased with having something to do, even if it’s so mundane as to figure out what’s going on in Tim’s head. Tim doubts he’ll figure it out. 

“Could be Abby. I’m sure you’ve got something to—” 

“It’s not Abby,” Tim says, interrupting Tony before he can get anywhere with the innuendo. 

Tony frowns. “Fine. Then it’s—you know, I can’t even come up with a second thing in your life that’s worth smiling about.” 

Tim rolls his eyes. “Don’t strain your brain cell speculating about it.” 

He has made quite a few comments throughout the years about Tony’s lack of brains and computer skills, but it’s far from the truth, of course – Gibbs doesn’t suffer fools, and Tony has shown, again and again, why he’s on the team. He’s brilliant, in his own way – he thinks outside the box in a way Tim could never do; Tim’s mind is programmed to stay within carefully constructed boxes. 

Tony is still watching him, and Tim only barely keeps from squirming under Tony’s intense gaze. It’s no wonder he can get suspects to spill the beans in interrogation – Tony’s gaze is as effective as Gibbs’, although he does, of course, use it differently. He wouldn’t be Tony otherwise. 

Ziva stands. “I’ll go see if Abby needs help with anything.” She only barely says it without annoyance and sarcasm; Tim can tell she’s bored beyond belief.

Gibbs grunts a reply. 

“Have fun,” Tony says, his voice a mockery of cheerful, and he waves goodbye to her. 

Tony’s gaze returns to Tim, and Tim snaps, “What?” 

“Just trying to figure you out, Probster. You’re smiling during the dullest afternoon ever in this office. No offense, Boss.” 

“None taken,” Gibbs mutters. 

Tony stands up and saunters over to Tim’s desk. He looks at the computer screen and wrinkles his nose at the numbers. 

“That can’t possibly be what you’re smiling about.” 

“It’s not.” Tim continues to work even though Tony’s hanging over his shoulder. 

“Abby and computers. What more is there?” 

Tim wonders what Tony would say if he snapped, ‘ _You_ ’, just like that. He doubts it’d go well for him – Tony would use it as teasing fodder for the next seven months. It’s not worth it, even though it probably would shut Tony up for a second. 

He hits ‘save’ instead on the computer, stabbing at the keys a little harder than strictly necessary. 

Gibbs stands and leaves too, not saying a word as to where. Possibly down to Ducky; it’s where Gibbs often is when they don’t have cases. The two have been friends for years and years, so it’s not strange. Tim wonders if he and Tony will still be friends in a decade or two. Despite Tony’s more annoying character traits, he hopes so. 

“And then there were only two,” Tony says, in a sing-song voice, sitting down on Tim’s desk. He never cared much about Tim’s personal space; even less about Tim’s office space. 

“Tony, some of us here are working.” 

Tony looks around. “Not some. You. Everyone else’s gone.” 

Tim’s eyes travel over the bullpen and he realizes Tony’s right. The desks on the other side are empty and it’s almost eerily quiet, now that he thinks about it. 

“Aw,” Tony says. “You and me, all alone in the big bad bullpen. Whatever shall we do?” 

“Work?” 

“Dull. No case.” 

“There are cold cases,” Tim says. “You know, what Gibbs told us to do?” 

“Were you always such a daddy’s boy?” 

Tim’s eyebrows rise slightly. “I’m the daddy’s boy? You’re the one who always wants his attention.” 

Tony’s like a puppy hanging after Gibbs, wanting Gibbs’ approval. Kate even told Tim, back when Tony was still in the hospital with the Plague, that it was Gibbs who got Tony back with one of his head slaps – he gives them to Tim too, but not nearly as frequently – and words that Kate didn’t hear. After that, Tony started slowly improving. 

Tony’s own father is, as far as Tim’s been able to gather, an awful excuse of a human being. Tony plays it up for laughs, but the things he’s said – Tim doesn’t doubt they’re true, and when he adds them up and thinks about them, really thinks, they aren’t things to laugh about. Tim suspects there are things from Tony’s childhood that Tony will never talk about. 

“That’s just the way our relationship is,” Tony says, waving it off. “I’m the goofball, remember?” 

It’s hard not to remember, and one look tells Tony as much. 

Tony grins. There is something so lovely about that grin. “So, what ‘cha thinking about?” 

Tim gives up and turns to Tony. “You.” 

Tony looks stunned, and Tim makes a mental whoop for being able to shut Tony up for once. 

Tim shrugs and continues, because he can’t stop there. “The team. Everything. I’m glad we’re back here. Together.” 

Tony schools his expression into something that looks more at ease and less like a goldfish. “Ah. Well. Yes.” 

“There. You happy?” 

“Ecstatic. More exactly, what are your thoughts about me?” 

Tim rolls his eyes and tries to not let Tony’s gaze affect him. Tony is ridiculously handsome – Tim thought so, even back when he was nauseous in Norfolk, with that body in the acid. Tony has the sort of good looks that makes people turn their heads, and when he adds the patented DiNozzo charm—well, it’s difficult to stand immune. Right now, there’s just the usual level of charm, though, because Tony doesn’t flirt with Tim. 

Unfortunately, Tim can’t help but add mentally, feeling his cheeks go red. 

“You are _blushing_ , Probie,” Tony says, voice filled with glee. “Thinking about me and blushing? This is highly interesting.” 

“It’s really not,” Tim tries, but the pitch of his voice is higher than normal and that doesn’t escape Tony. 

Tony leans forward, inches away from Tim. It’s not the first time they’re in close proximity – they’ve been physical in the gym while sparring, they’ve fought for a cell phone with embarrassing footage, and Tony often stands by Tim’s desk, eating cookies so that crumbs fall in his hair, or to annoy Tim in some other way – but Tim is still acutely aware that he can feel Tony’s breath on his cheek. 

He pushes away, making a face at Tony. “Let it go.” 

Tony grins. “Methinks the Probemeister has a crush.” 

Tim glares hotly at him, still sitting in his chair, but at least now he’s further away. Three feet isn’t nearly enough space between them, but it’s better than inches. 

“I do not,” Tim snaps. 

Tony leans back, chuckling, and Tim hates him a little for looking so damn good while doing it. Really, Tony looks good doing whatever. Tim remembers the time when he needed to borrow a clean shirt from Tony – and suddenly, they’d been standing half-naked in front of each other in the middle of the bullpen. Tim isn’t the self-conscious type, but standing in front of Tony’s well-muscled, tan body had made him want to hit the gym for weeks to come. And, of course, come with Tony’s name on his lips. He’s done the latter many times, though he will rather die than admit it. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Tony says, still smiling. “Always thinking too much.” 

“Helps if one of us thinks.” Tim’s cheeks are still burning, because he can’t get the image of Tony’s naked torso out of his head. His pants don’t feel very comfortable, and he’s sincerely hoping it’s not showing through his pants. He’ll never live it down. 

“You wound me, Probie,” Tony says, in a tone that says he’s not the least bit wounded. “I’ll have you know, I think a lot.” 

“Cars and women aren’t exactly deep thoughts.” 

Tony smirks and leans forward again. “Don’t just think about cars and women.” 

Tim can’t find his voice, because Tony is too close again. Tony inches forward until Tim can once more feel Tony’s warm breath, this time against his ear. 

Tony whispers softly in his ear, “Sometimes, I think about men, too.” 

Tim’s breath hitches, and his mind goes completely blank. What did Tony just say? What? Tony? Men? Is he serious? Is he jerking Tim’s chain, as he’s done so many times before? 

Tony draws back slightly, and a low, rumbling chuckle passes across his lips. It’s possibly the sexiest sound Tim’s ever heard, and his already hard dick goes even harder. God. 

He barely dares to look up, but finally he does. 

Tony is watching him, and there’s amusement in his eyes – but somehow, Tim is certain that Tony isn’t playing with him. There is something beyond the playfulness, something deeper and darker and—Tim can’t find words to explain what he sees in Tony’s eyes. He wonders if he’s imagining it, but he doesn’t think so. He knows there is depth beyond Tony’s façade. 

“No wiseass comments?” Tony asks, smirking. “I’m disappointed in you, McBlush.” 

“You—you,” Tim says, but he has no idea what it is he’s going to say, so he doesn’t get any further. 

Tony’s smirk doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. In the same low tone he used when he made his comment on men, he says, “Methinks the Probiemeister has a crush on— _me_. Am I right?” 

Tim has very few wits left to talk about, and he splutters indignantly, “I don’t—you—me—I’m not—” 

Tony smiles, less of a smirk and more plain amusement now. “I thought so.” 

He stands, and Tim’s eyes land on Tony’s crotch, because it’s there, right in front of him. Tim’s mouth is hanging open, and he _really_ shouldn’t be looking at Tony’s crotch, but he can’t help it. His brain has long since stopped working, and besides, he’s pretty sure that beneath those layers of clothing that Tony is wearing, Tony has a hard-on, too. 

Tony is back at his desk by the time Tim’s brain turns back on and his mouth starts working again. 

“You’re just—that’s all you’re going to—” 

Okay, perhaps his brain isn’t as turned on as he wants. Other things are turned on instead. 

Tony glances at him. “Yes, Probie?” 

“You can’t do that!” Tim says, finally getting the words out to form a complete sentence. 

“And what’s ‘that’?” 

“You can’t just say those things,” Tim says, and his cheeks are still burning. “And you—you can’t—it’s not—you can’t do that!” 

Two complete sentences, and his brain breaks down again, obviously. He curses at himself. Then again, with Tony gazing at him that way – how can anyone have a functioning mind? 

Tony strides back over to Tim’s desk. “So, what do you want me to do instead?” 

“I—you can’t—I don’t know,” Tim says, and wants to slap himself. “Not that.” 

Tony’s voice is sultry and low when he speaks, and Tim blanches again, because those words can’t possibly be coming out of _Tony’s_ mouth, directed at _him_. “Would you rather I kiss you, right here in the bullpen, then? Or perhaps get down on my knees and give you a blowjob that’ll leave you unable to think straight for days?” 

Tim doesn’t doubt that Tony can give a blowjob that’ll leave him unable to think straight for days, seeing how simply talking about it makes it impossible for Tim to form coherent thoughts. 

“You—want me?” 

At that, Tony laughs. “You’re thicker than I thought, Probie. After all this, and _that_ ’s your question?” 

Tim finds his wits enough to glare at Tony. “What should I ask?” 

Tony grins. “Whether I like to be top or bottom, perhaps? If I enjoy tying my partner down? If I like whips, and toys?” 

Tim’s mouth is dry. He squeaks, “Do you?” 

“You’ll see. If you’re good. Or bad, depending on how you see it.” 

Tim wonders how he’ll ever get any work done around the office again. Unless this is a dream – and it’s entirely possible it is, because he might have fallen asleep in the dull afternoon, even though it feels very, very real – Tim’s sure he won’t ever be able to look at Tony again without getting hard. 

But then his mind grinds to a halt. 

They can’t do this. They can’t fool around. Gibbs’ Rule Number Twelve is to never get involved with a co-worker and Tim’s certain that if Gibbs ever finds out that Tim and Tony are going at it like bunnies – if that actually happens, which Tim still can’t believe it would – then Tim will be fired. Tony is Gibbs’ second, so if Gibbs must choose, he’ll pick Tony. 

And it’s not just Gibbs’ rule. Tim has seen the damage a failed relationship can lead to. Even his relationship with Abby has seen some bad times, a consequence of their short romance. If Tim has sex with Tony, then a time will come when Tim wants more and Tony doesn’t, and that will lead to inevitable pain. Tim doesn’t want pain, not with a man he counts on to have his back in life-or-death situations. 

He can’t risk it. 

He presses the word out, though it hurts. “No.” 

Tony’s eyebrows rise. “No?” 

“I can’t,” Tim says. “We can’t. If you’re actually serious, which you probably aren’t, because this is probably just your elaborate joke, but—we can’t. I can’t.” 

Tony frowns. 

Tim licks his lips. His mouth is still dry. “It’s not that I don’t want it. You. I do. But—for one, Gibbs will kill us.” 

There is a hint of a smile on Tony’s lips at that. Tim looks at him and thinks that perhaps this really isn’t a joke. Either Tony’s a superb actor – which he is; Tim has seen it – or maybe—maybe Tony really wants him. The slight slump to Tony’s shoulders, the dimming light in Tony’s eyes – it all points to Tony hurting. Tim has seen Tony in pain before, both mental and physical pain. Tony never shows it much, always hides both behind a façade – except the time with the Plague, because Tony really couldn’t hide there, and watching him fight was nearly enough to make Tim cry – but Tim knows him well enough to see the signs. 

He decides to be honest, because if Tony really wants to bed him, then he should be honest. 

“And I don’t want just sex from you,” Tim says, and he can’t believe he’s admitting it out loud. “I want more than that.” 

“More?” Tony echoes, and his eyebrows rise again. 

“More,” Tim says. “Dinners. Cuddling. Watching movies together. I don’t know if I want flowers, but—you get the point. I want it all. Maybe even to live together. You know, all that. And I know that’s not what you want, so—I can’t.” 

Tim knows he’s giving Tony material for months to come as far as teasing goes. He knows it, and yet he thinks that this is not something he’s ashamed of. He wants happiness, wants a life with someone. He wants it with Tony, he really, really does, because he’s seen the man beyond the façade and that man is such a good man that it makes Tim want to be even better, too. But Tony can’t offer what Tim wants, so Tim will hold out for his dream, for someone else. Perhaps someone will come along, who’ll measure up to one Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. 

Tony looks thoughtful. “I see.” 

Gone is the sultriness, and instead Tony sounds dejected. Tim’s not sure why, seeing how Tony can get any girl – and probably most men – he wants. If Tim is stupid enough to say no – and he just was, obviously – then someone else will take the place in Tony’s bed. 

Tim watches Tony out of the corner of his eye, as he returns to his computer and starts working on something once more. Tony says nothing to him the rest of the day, and Tim is glad when Gibbs returns and tells them to go home. 

Tomorrow, things will be back to normal. 

At least he hopes so. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, comments are always greatly appreciated.


End file.
